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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28469067">who will come and go with me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothicalcreatures/pseuds/mothicalcreatures'>mothicalcreatures</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>together we are found [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Terror (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(offscreen) - Freeform, Domestic Bliss, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Jewish Holidays, Judaism, M/M, Minor Character Death, Tenderness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:54:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28469067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothicalcreatures/pseuds/mothicalcreatures</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Since gifting Solomon the candlesticks and a menorah—which he now understood could also be called a hanukkiah—James found himself encompassed in Jewish life in a way that he hadn’t quite expected. Once they’d talked that first night, it was as though an entire new side of Solomon emerged from hiding. James’ days were suddenly filled with half hummed, half muttered prayer, as Solomon tried to recall prayers he’d barely thought about since he left home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Fitzjames/Solomon Tozer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>together we are found [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Festival of Lights Fest, The Terror Bingo (2020)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>who will come and go with me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Oh boy this is late. This was for the Festival of Lights Fest prompt "minority cultures and subcultures" and also the Terror Bingo prompt "I hardly dare speak the words." </p><p>The title is from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AXlBZYO73ZE"> Bound for the Promise Land by Nefesh Mountain.</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <b>Shabbat ~ 24 January 1851/ 22 Sh’vat 6511</b>
</p><p class="p1">Since gifting Solomon the candlesticks and a menorah—which he now understood could also be called a hanukkiah—James found himself encompassed in Jewish life in a way that he hadn’t quite expected. Perhaps it was a reflection of his not being the most devout Christian, never thinking about it terribly much unless it was the mandatory Sunday service that the Navy was so fond of, that made all the Jewish things working their way into his daily life stand out more.</p><p class="p1">Once they’d talked that first night, it was as though an entire new side of Solomon emerged from hiding. James’ days were suddenly filled with half hummed, half muttered prayer, as Solomon tried to recall prayers he’d barely thought about since he left home.</p><p class="p1">“Are all prayers sung like that?” James asked one Friday evening, as he listened Solomon quietly singing to himself as he lit the Shabbat candles.</p><p class="p1">Solomon shook out the match. “There meant to be, yeah. Doesn’t mean I remember how they’re all supposed to go. I spoke the ones during Hanukkah, remember.”</p><p class="p1">James nodded. He did remember and he hadn’t really though anything of it at the time.</p><p class="p1">“That’s hardly the only thing I’ve forgotten,” Solomon continued, tossing the used match into the fireplace before dropping down onto the couch next to James and sprawling out so that his head was resting in James’ lap. “The worst is when I know the words, but I can’t remember them. I can remember saying them and knowing them, but they’re just…”</p><p class="p1">“Not there,” James finished, carding his fingers through Solomon’s hair.</p><p class="p1">Solomon sighed and turned his head so that his face was pressed against James’ stomach.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sure God doesn’t mind that your prayers are imperfect,” James said. “They’re sincere.” Far more sincere it seemed to James than his own were these days. He’d recently written to William about his flagging faith, and while it had been nice to commiserate about their shared loss of faith, James didn’t feel quite so ready to give it up entirely the way William had.</p><p class="p1">“I know,” Solomon muttered. “I just wish I did remember, is all.”</p><p class="p1">James quietly mourned the fact that they were not in a position where he could easily lean down to kiss the furrow from Solomon’s brow, but he settled for continuing to stroke Solomon’s hair. “Have you heard back from your mother?”</p><p class="p1">“Not yet.” Solomon shifted to look up at James and then paused. “Actually, that depends on what letter you’re talking about. I dropped one for her at the post yesterday morning.”</p><p class="p1">“Ah,” James chuckled. “The one you just replied to then, what did she say?”</p><p class="p1">“She did write some things out for me,” Solomon rubbed a hand over his face. “She’s already talking about inviting you up for the coming holidays. I swear, I remind her in every letter that you’re not Jewish.”</p><p class="p1">“I wouldn’t mind you know,” James said, catching Solomon’s hand in his free hand before it dropped out of reach. “But I do understand if you’d rather keep these things to yourself.”</p><p class="p1">James would never have presumed to ask outright if he could join Solomon and his family for their holidays; he was content to simply be a pillar of support for Solomon, but should an invitation be offered, James couldn’t think of any good reason to decline.</p><p class="p1">Solomon gave James a strange look, and James was about to ask why Solomon was looking at him like that, but then it passed and Solomon squeezed James’ hand. “I’ll let her know then.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>Purim ~ March 1851/Adar II 6511</b>
</p><p class="p1">Purim snuck up on Solomon. He had forgotten about the Jewish year’s habit of doubling up the month of Adar. He’d had a vague memory that Passover had been in March last year, so he had pinned Purim for sometime in February or very early March for this year. That had not been the case, apparently, so he’d written his mother to see if he could get a calendar or even relevant holiday dates written on a scrap of paper.</p><p class="p1">The letter with the calendar, written out carefully by his mother, revealed that Purim would be starting <em>tonight, </em>leaving Solomon with no real time to prepare anything. His mother had included a recipe for hamantaschen from “one of the grandmothers at the synagogue” who had apparently been very upset by the thought of Solomon spending the holidays alone. It was touching, if too late to be useful in a timely manner.</p><p class="p1">Along with the letter from his mother, and a few letters for James, there was a small square parcel, and a rather heavy one too. There was no return address on the outside, but there were enough people who would address something to both himself and James that Solomon had a few suspects: James’ brother, who apparently knew the finer details of their living situation; the now Lt. Des Voeux, who had the habit of sending things when he felt particularly guilty; and his own mother, which given the timing with the letter had things leaning in her favor.</p><p class="p1">He set the parcel on the kitchen table while he sought out somethingto eat that he could bring out to the workshop with him, and more or less forgot about it as he spent the afternoon working on commissions. At least, until James entered the workshop some hours later with the parcel under one arm, while he leaned heavily on his cane with the other.</p><p class="p1">“Thought I’d find you in here,” James said, setting the parcel down on one of several unfinished end tables—a commission from some wealthy so-and-so who had been pointed in Solomon’s direction by Des Voeux.</p><p class="p1">Solomon sighed and dropped the hunk of wood that he’d been coaxing into being vaguely cow shaped. It hadn’t been going well, as his shoulder had been bothering him something fierce today.</p><p class="p1">“Margaret said she hadn’t seen you all day,” James continued, “So I figured you were out here, despite you saying that your arm was hurting this morning.”</p><p class="p1">“These commissions aren’t going to finish themselves,” Solomon replied. “I have deadlines you know.”</p><p class="p1">“Who’s the package from?” James asked, and Solomon was grateful for the subject change. Both he and James had the nasty habit of overexerting themselves when it came to their lingering injuries.</p><p class="p1">Solomon hauled himself to his feet. “Not sure, best guess is my mother, it arrived at the same time as a letter from her. You didn’t have to tote it all the way out here.”</p><p class="p1">“Margaret wanted it out of the kitchen so she could start cooking.” James tapped on the parcel.</p><p class="p1">“Do you think…” Solomon sighed. “My mum sent a… a recipe for Purim. It starts tonight. I hadn’t realized-“</p><p class="p1">“You want to see if she’d make it for us?” James asked, coming around to take a seat on a spare stool.</p><p class="p1">Solomon shook his head. “I’d rather like to try a hand at it myself, not sure we have everything though.”</p><p class="p1">James was quiet for a moment. “What are we missing?”</p><p class="p1">Solomon chuckled. “Don’t know. You’ve got a better idea about the state of our pantry. It’s a pastry, calls for a poppy seed filling, but you can use any jam or preserves really.”</p><p class="p1">James hummed. “We should have enough of the basics unless it calls for something strange. I’ll have to see about the jam though. I’ve rather torn through the jars of black current my brother brought at Christmas.” He hummed in thought again. “Well, no matter, worst comes to worst we have to put off making them until tomorrow. For now,” James reached over to grab the parcel again. “You have a package to open.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s addressed to the both of us,” Solomon pointed out, but he took the parcel when it was offered and set it on the workbench in front of him.</p><p class="p1">He picked open the twine holding on the wrapping paper and then pulled everything off. Inside was a small wooden crate, the sort that Solomon used to pack small and fragile items. In fact, as he turned the box around he noticed the stamp on the box indicating that it <em>was</em> one of his boxes; definitely from his mother then. He popped open the lid of the box, and then nearly choked on a laugh as he saw what was inside.</p><p class="p1">James leaned forward, trying to peer inside without moving over much. “What is it?”</p><p class="p1">“Jam,” Solomon said, grinning as he held up one of the two glass jars that had been carefully packed in strips of old newspaper. “I’ve spent all day making myself an anxious wreck about this recipe and I could have solved half of it, by opening the package.”</p><p class="p1">James laughed. “Perfect. What kind is it?”</p><p class="p1">Solomon turned back to the box to rifle through the strips of paper in search of a note. When he found it, he pulled it out. It was shorter than the other letter he’d gotten from his mother, mostly to the point of “Here’s what’s in the box, hope they arrive in time.”</p><p class="p1">“Plum,” Solomon said, “From my mother, and the other one…” he set down the letter to heft the other jar out of the box. “Is from a woman at my mother’s synagogue, poppyseed filling for the pastries.”</p><p class="p1">“An odd filling for a pastry,” James said, reaching out, and Solomon passed over the jar with a shrug.</p><p class="p1">“It’s traditional,” Solomon said. “Course I hated it as a kid, strawberry jam was my filling of preference.”</p><p class="p1">James looked up. “Why? The tradition I mean.”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know.” Solomon scanned the letter again. “I’m sure it’s something, it usually is.”</p><p class="p1">James hummed softly and set the jar down on the workbench. “Well, if you’re game, I think I’d like to try the poppyseed when we make them tonight. What are they called? I don’t think you mentioned.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon smiled at James. He couldn’t help the warm thrill that went through him when James made it sound like interacting with Solomon’s Jewish life was not only normal, but to be <em>expected</em>. “Hamantaschen. They’re called hamantaschen.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>Pesach ~ April 1851/Nisan 6511</b>
</p><p class="p1">Not long after Purim, James received a letter from Solomon’s mother, addressed only to him, which was new. Normally any correspondence from Solomon’s mother was addressed to Solomon and if there was a note for James it would be enclosed. The only exception had been the one package addressed to the both of them.</p><p class="p1">The letter, when James opened it, was an invitation to join Solomon’s family for Passover. James had known for some time that Solomon would be spending Passover in Cheltenham with his family, it had been one of the first things planned after the revelations of last Hanukkah. In truth, James was glad for it, Solomon had hardly seen his family since they’d been back, though they wrote frequently, he just hadn’t been expected the invitation to be extended to him.</p><p class="p1">Apparently Mrs. Tozer had asked Solomon about inviting James, but his only reply had made her think that Solomon hadn’t actually asked James about it.</p><p class="p1">He hadn’t and James wondered why. James certainly didn’t want to accept the invitation behind Solomon’s back, so he tucked the letter into his pocket and went to find Solomon.</p><p class="p1">Solomon was on his hands and knees in the garden when James located him. It had remained an overgrown mess since they moved in, they’d put off working on it because of the labor it entailed, and then winter had arrived, but Solomon had made it his goal for this year, to clear it out and get things growing.“Making progress?” James asked.</p><p class="p1">Solomon sighed and sat back, “Sort of. It would be helpful if I knew what was a weed and what was a fancy flower. I’ve half a mind to tear everything out and start from scratch.”</p><p class="p1">“You could do that,” James said. “A vegetable garden would be nice, useful too.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s not a half bad idea,” Solomon agreed with a nod. “I’ll have see about getting seeds when I’m in town next.” He levered himself to his feet with a grunt. “Somehow I don’t think you came out here to give me gardening advice, though.”</p><p class="p1">James chuckled. “I did not,” he said, pulling the letter out of his pocket. “I got a letter from your mother, inviting me to join you for Passover, and I thought I should talk about it with you before accepting.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon tensed. “I’m sorry, I told her it wasn’t necessary.”</p><p class="p1">“There’s no need to apologize, Sol,” James replied. “I’d <em>like</em> to go, if that’s all right with you.” If Solomon didn’t want James to be a part of this, he would accept that boundary too.</p><p class="p1">Solomon was silent, just staring at James like James had grown a second head.</p><p class="p1">James chewed the inside of his cheek. “If you’d rather me not be there, I’ll leave it. This is your time, first and foremost. I won’t intrude if you’d rather go alone.”</p><p class="p1">“In the letter, did my mother mention when Passover is this year,” Solomon asked.</p><p class="p1">Solomon hesitance suddenly slotted a bit more into place. “She did say it fell over Good Friday and Easter,” James said. “But in truth, if I were to attend church it would mostly out of habit. I certainly have no family obligations, my brother’s staunchly atheist.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon sagged at that. “You’d really be all right forgoing your Christian holidays for this?”</p><p class="p1">“You’re more important to me than any holiday Sol,” James said. “If you’d like me to accompany you I will gladly.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Later that evening found Solomon describing to James in great detail what went on over the course of the holiday while they ate dinner—the restrictions on leavened bread, the seder, the biblical stories involved. He would pause every so often, looking to James as if he was expecting James to declare that he had changed his mind. Eventually he sighed and set his fork down. “I’m… I know you’re always wanting to support me, but… but not every holiday is as… as… fun as Hanukkah and Purim, there’s a lot more ritual involved in Passover than anything I’ve really done on my own.”</p><p class="p1">James reached over to take Solomon’s hand and Solomon sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be… I’m not trying to discourage you from coming, I just…”</p><p class="p1">“You want me to understand,” James said. He gave Solomon’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m not under any delusions that Judaism is all fun holidays. I think every religion out there must have their festivals and their days where you sit in contemplative prayer all day.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. “I wouldn’t quite call Passover ‘sitting all day in contemplative prayer,’ that’s more like Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.”</p><p class="p1">“When are those?” James asked.</p><p class="p1">Solomon shook his head lightly. “Much later in the year. I’ll give you the run down when we get closer.” </p><p class="p1">James nodded with a smile. “All right. Feel more convinced that I’m not doing this because I have some misguided notion about Jewish holidays?”</p><p class="p1">“Can you blame me for being concerned?” Solomon asked, pulling his hand back from James to pick up his fork again and shovel a piece of potato into his mouth.</p><p class="p1">“Not at all,” James said as he returned to his own food as well. “I will admit that I’m finding learning about Judaism rather exciting, but a not insignificant part of that excitement is that it’s you I’m learning about it with. It’s important to you, which by extension makes it important to me as well.”</p><p class="p1">James glanced up at Solomon just in time to see him wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. “Are you all right?”</p><p class="p1">Solomon nodded. He still looked a bit choked and his eyes were now red from him rubbing at them. “You’ve just got me overwhelmed.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to wrap my head around how lucky I am, is all. It’s hard to feel like I deserve to have a life like this sometimes.”</p><p class="p1">James frowned, but he understood the feeling all too well, though perhaps from a different angle than Solomon did. James knew Solomon still carried the guilt of siding with the mutineers no matter how brief that time had been, while James’ own guilt came from the feeling that he had failed as a commander for letting so many under his command die.</p><p class="p1">“You do deserve it,” James said softly. “I wouldn’t trade this for anything, and… and we can think about what we might have done differently all we want, but we can’t change it.” He sighed, “We just have to live with it.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon nodded, but didn’t say anything else and the rest of their meal passed in relative silence before they retired for the evening. </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The conversation was not touched upon the following morning, or the following days in which James wrote an affirmative to Mrs. Tozer’s invitation and began making preparations to leave. This wasn’t wholly out of the ordinary, trying to put what they dealt with into words was difficult at the best of times, but it still worried James.</p><p class="p1">Still, Solomon did not appear to be withdrawing into himself like he sometimes did when he felt particularly haunted. The opposite in fact, he was practically giddy as the piled into the coach that would take them to the train station.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t say I’ve ever seen you smile this much at a time,” James said, ribbing Solomon gently.</p><p class="p1">Solomon shoved James shoulder, grinning. “That a crime now?”</p><p class="p1">James just laughed and Solomon continued. “I’m happy, all right? I’m going to see my family, who I’ve only seen once since we’ve been back, to celebrate…” He clenched his jaw eyes flicking to the front of the coach where the driver sat. “And… and you’re coming with me.”</p><p class="p1">James grinned back, and clapped a hand on Solomon’s thigh. “I’m coming with you.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">James and Solomon were greeted with a flurry of excitement when they arrived at the Tozer residence. They’d arrived a day late, due to one of their trains being delayed, so the house was a flurry of activity preparing for the first night of Passover when they arrived. After a warm greeting both Solomon and James were put to work.</p><p class="p1">James was charged with locking up any remaining grain products that weren’t kosher for Passover in a cupboard in the pantry, and he was given a thorough explanation of chametz and the tradition of selling it to non-Jews when Solomon’s sister Charley came into the pantry to get salt.</p><p class="p1">“We’ve already done that though, so don’t worry about it,” Charley said with a grin, when she saw James starting to look worried. “Just lock everything away and hold onto the key.”</p><p class="p1">She winked at James before leaving the pantry, and he got the feeling that he was going to be at the end of more than a bit of teasing from her before the week was out.</p><p class="p1">Preparations were momentarily halted by the arrival of Solomon’s grandparents—Mrs. Tozer’s parents, James and Elizabeth Ham—mostly, it seemed, so that James could be introduced to them, which felt just a little bit odd. It almost felt as if he was being shown off as one would show off their child’s spouse.</p><p class="p1">Mrs. Ham seemed rather unimpressed when he was introduced as “Captain James Fitzjames” and “Solomon’s employer,” and James was quick to clarify. “I’m Solomon’s friend first and foremost, ma’am,” he said. “I simply wanted to be sure he wasn’t struggling to get back on his feet after our return, hiring him on was the easiest way to do that, but he’s his own master these days with his carpentry workshop.”</p><p class="p1">“Hmm.” Mrs. Ham gave James an appraising look. “Suppose you could be worse.”</p><p class="p1">Mrs. Tozer huffed. “Ima! Captain Fitzjames is our <em>guest</em>.”</p><p class="p1">“You know it takes me a while to make up my mind about goyim,” Mrs. Ham groused, and Solomon tried and failed to smother his laughter.</p><p class="p1">Mr. Ham didn’t seem to share his wife’s opinion, and greeted James much more casually with a hand shake and a, “Well, I for one am glad our grandson has friends in high places.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Is your grandmother always like that?” James asked Solomon, once Mrs. Tozer had ushered her parents into the kitchen.</p><p class="p1">“Oh yeah,” Solomon snickered again. “She’s got things to say about everything.”</p><p class="p1">“Last time she was here,” Charley pipped up, thunking a box of plates that clattered dangerously down on the dining table, “She and grandpa got in <em>long</em> argument about the story of Abraham and Isaac.”</p><p class="p1">“Why? I mean… What about it?” James asked, though he supposed he could understand why a mother might not particularly like the story.</p><p class="p1">“Well, nan has been attending a women’s Torah study group,” Charley explained. “And they’d just discussed how perhaps Abraham misinterpreted God’s words and taken them too far attempting tosacrifice Isaac, and that’s why the angel stopped him. Anyway, our grandpa prefers a more traditional approach to the story, so they spent most of the evening bickering about it. Nan can go on for hours if you let her, but it’s always fascinating.”</p><p class="p1">“She certainly keeps the rabbi on his toes,” Mrs. Tozer said, sweeping back into the dining room. “Solomon, why don’t you showCaptain Fitzjames where the guest room is and then you can drop you things in Charley’s room.” She paused. “And get cleaned up before coming back down.”</p><p class="p1">“Do I get no say in this?” Charley asked.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sure Solomon and I can share if Charley would prefer her privacy,” James said. He realized after he said it, that it might have been too revealing a statement, but Mrs. Tozer didn’t seem too bothered and Solomon also took his side of the matter rather quickly.</p><p class="p1">“We have slept in closer quarters,” Solomon said. “And Charley kicks.”</p><p class="p1">“Do not!” Charley cried, turning to face Solomon quickly, her elbow bumping the plates she’d just removed from their box dangerously close to the edge of the table.</p><p class="p1">“Do to,” Solomon shot back. “Don’t drop those plates.” He turned to James, “Come on, let’s leave Charley to breaking the seder dishes.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">James didn’t have time to dwell on any one thing for too long, as he’d only just gotten changed when a knock from Charley summoned both him and Solomon back downstairs for the beginning of the seder.</p><p class="p1">It was far more interactive than James had expected. From the way Solomon described it, James had imagined it as a sort sermon, but it could not have been further from that.</p><p class="p1">There was prayer and ritual of course, and James remained quiet and listened, even when Solomon’s grandfather spoke in Hebrew, which James did not understand, though he was beginning to recognize certain sounds and words from hearing Solomon pray. What James had not expected was how interactive it would be, how much <em>he</em> would be doing, though thankfully he was not expected to say anything. He simply followed what Solomon and the others were doing, drinking wine when it was presented to him, following in the ritual hand-washing, dipping beet greens in salt water.</p><p class="p1">Of course after that things ground to a momentary halt as Charley tried to argue why the obligation of asking the four questions should not fall to her, the youngest, as was traditional, but rather to James, who knew the least. This was shot down almost immediately by Mrs. Tozer, much to James’ relief.</p><p class="p1">Perhaps noting James’ confusion, Solomon leaned over to quietly whisper that ritual was a bit less forgiving when it came to creative interpretation than Torah study was.</p><p class="p1">The rest of the evening passed far more quickly than James expected it to considering how much was happening. The story of the exodus from Egypt was told, complete with Charley doing a cheerful and ridiculous finger puppet display of the ten plagues. She’d crocheted the finger puppets herself apparently, and Solomon wasted no time in teasing her about it. James did not join, but he did rather agree with the assessment that it was rather hard to tell the puppets made for lice, boils and hail apart as they were all white blobs on a darker background.</p><p class="p1">Then came more blessings, more dipping various foods in salt water, and then finally the meal, where conversation became very centered on what James thought of everything.</p><p class="p1">“It’s been a far more interesting time than what Solomon led me to believe,” James said, a plainly teasing grin on his face.</p><p class="p1">Solomon huffed. “In my defense I was going off mostly childhood memories when I would have preferred to do literally anything other than sit around a table and listen to the repetition of a story I already knew. It’s a more tolerable experience as an adult. I was a teen last time I was home for a seder”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“So what did you think?” Solomon asked, prodding James’ side as he climbed into the bed next to him.</p><p class="p1">James rolled over and caught Solomon’s hand. “It was quite eye opening and I’m very glad I came.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah?”</p><p class="p1">James nodded. “Frankly, I’d like to hear more about your nan’s thoughts on various biblical stories. I like the idea that they can continue to be interpreted and take on different meanings. I don’t remember if I’ve told you, but my Uncle Robert was a reverend, which meant that growing up there was a very specific way we were taught biblical stories and it didn’t leave a lot of room for questions or different lines of thought.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, just be careful of getting my nan started,” Solomon said, tugging James hand close to hold it against his chest.“Make sure you don’t have any pressing plans.”</p><p class="p1">“So in the hour before we have to leave, understood,” James said with sly grin.</p><p class="p1">Solomon had to turn and smother his face in the pillow to keep from waking up the rest of the house with his laughter.</p><p class="p1">James leaned in to catch Solomon’s mouth for a kiss as Solomon’s laughter started to abate.</p><p class="p1">“I’m glad you came with me,” Solomon murmured. “I would have enjoyed it on my own, but it means a lot that you’re willing to do this for me.”</p><p class="p1">James hummed softly and leaned in to press another brief kiss to the corner of Solomon’s mouth. “Thank you for trusting me enough to allow me to be here with you.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>Shavuot ~ June 1851/Sivan 5611</b>
</p><p class="p1">Like many Jewish things that had fallen to the wayside after Solomon left home, it had been many years since he had set foot inside a synagogue. Then he’d spent a week attending services when he’d and James had gone to spend Passover with his family, and once he and James were home again, Solomon found himself actively missing the experience. Unfortunately, their town did not have a synagogue, and the closest Solomon knew of were in London, which was somewhat close, but not close enough for daily or even really weekly visits. </p><p class="p1">He expressed this to James one evening, as they sat in their sitting room; James drawing and Solomon attempting to read the paper. “I know we’d planned to stay here for the foreseeable future,” Solomon began. “And… and I certainly don’t want you to think I’m unhappy here, but it’s not exactly easy to… to be Jewish here. There’s no synagogue, no community, and I appreciate your support…”</p><p class="p1">“But it’s hardly the same is it,” James said, and he set aside his drawing to give Solomon his full attention. “And that certainly wasn’t on my mind when I was looking for this place. It has been good to be able to regain our health away from the bustle of the city and the gawking populace, I think, but our needs have changed in the year and a half we’ve been here.”</p><p class="p1">‘Our needs.’ Solomon was always overwhelmed whenever James talked like that, framing Solomon’s Jewishness as something not only important to Solomon but important to <em>James.</em> It made warmth flutter in his chest, and it never failed to bring tears to his eyes on days that he was struggling, because what had he ever done to deserve such care.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve been corresponding with the Admiralty about a potential posting,” James continued, and the warmth in Solomon’s chest vanished abruptly and was replaced with a cold fear. Perhaps Solomon had grown too accustomed to their quiet domestic life, but he desperately did not want to see James go back to sea with his leg the way it was.</p><p class="p1">His distress must have been very apparent, because James’ next words were, “Not to captain a ship, good Christ no.” He let out of bitter laugh. “I’m in no condition for that. No, they want me as a gunnery instructor on the HMS <em>Excellent</em>, where I trained as a lieutenant. I’ve yet to reply because accepting this would mean a move to Portsmouth and I was hesitant since that would take you even farther from your family.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon nodded. While that was true, it would be no trouble to find carpentry work at the dockyard or perhaps he could entertain his dream of getting a workshop with a proper storefront. He didn’t mentioned any of this to James, however—best not think about plans before they knew what they were doing. “There’s a synagogue in Portsmouth,” was what he said instead. “I’ve never been in, but I’ve walked by it enough over the years.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The following weeks were a flurry of activity, as the Admiralty apparently wanted James in his new position just as soon as possible, although, he was given leave to take what time he needed to make his move to Portsmouth before he started. Still, that meant locating a house; seeing if Margaret would be willing to accompany them; and getting Solomon’s workshop packed up, which was a far more daunting task that packing up the house, as most of the furniture had already been at the house when they’d moved in.</p><p class="p1">“I think I’ve found a place,” James said. “It’s fairly close to both the <em>Excellent </em>and Queen Street, small, would be perfectly easy to mind ourselves.”</p><p class="p1">Margaret, in the end, had declined to come with them, not wanting to be taken too far from her family, and James had assured her that he could provide recommendation should she need it.</p><p class="p1">“How much privacy would it afford us?” Solomon asked. The first think on his mind being that a “small” residence in Portsmouth might wind up in close proximity to others.</p><p class="p1">“Plenty, I should think,” James replied, a sly grin forming on his face. “It’s only as small as it is for being above a shop.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon stared at James. He wouldn’t exactly call being above a shop <em>private</em>, unless…</p><p class="p1">“The whole building is for sale,” James continued. “I know you’d put thought into having your own storefront.”</p><p class="p1">James looked to Solomon pointedly when he said that. It was a terribly appealing thought, getting to have a proper place to sell his wares, but, at the same time, did he have the know-how to manage it? He settled for nodding and James continued.</p><p class="p1">“We don’t have to make the decision now, but I’ve made plans to go down to Portsmouth to look at the place,” he paused. “If you’d like to accompany me, I had thought we could stay the week. Take advantage of the time to let you visit the synagogue there before we make our move.”</p><p class="p1">“How big of a shop are we talking?” Solomon asked, crossing his arms. He’d already made up his mind that he’d go down with James—he wouldn’t be able to make any good decision without seeing the place for himself.</p><p class="p1">“Not terribly large, by my understanding,” James said. “But there’s a front and a back, so there’d be space to have a workshop separate from the storefront.”</p><p class="p1">“And you’d be willing to risk living like that? With me?” Solomon regretted asking it just as soon as he did, because James’ face fell abruptly, but it was a question that needed to be asked. The Admiralty would likely be expecting James to have a house in the fashionable part of town, not in the rooms above a small carpentry shop with a retired marine.</p><p class="p1">“Solomon…”</p><p class="p1">“At least acknowledge that it would look strange,” Solomon pleaded. “You have appearances to keep up. It’s one thing for me to appear to be working for you, but that ruse falls apart in the set up you’ve just laid out.”</p><p class="p1">James leveled Solomon with an even stare. “Then we think of something else, but I don’t want my standing to come between us, and I certainly don’t want it to keep you from pursuing what you want.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon swallowed. He didn’t have a good answer for that, so he said nothing and, after a few moments, James began discussing more in-depth the plans he’d made.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">They arrived in Portsmouth late in the evening on the first Wednesday in June, just in time, Solomon pointed out to James as they settled into their rented rooms, for the start of Shavuot the following evening.</p><p class="p1">“That may have been somewhat intentional on my part,” James admitted, dropping onto the bed. “I had remembered you speaking about it so I thought if we were to be spending any time in Portsmouth prior to moving properly, I might try to plan for a holiday so we could attend services.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon paused, adjusting his bag on his good shoulder. “We?”</p><p class="p1">James shifted a bit uncomfortably on the bed. “I’d rather hoped I could come with you. If you’d rather I not, I would understand, however.”</p><p class="p1">“I…” Solomon hadn’t frankly considered that James would want to. It had been one thing, in his mind, for James to be interested by his grandmother’s interpretations of biblical stories, as they often were quite novel. He had attended some of the Passover services with them, yes, but he had been a guest and had only attended upon invitation.</p><p class="p1">Solomon huffed a laugh. “You know what I have to say about your position and public appearance, but you’ve been determined to not care so I suppose I can’t stop you.”</p><p class="p1">“But would it make <em>you</em> uncomfortable?” James asked. “My being there.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon was quiet for a moment, thinking about what it might be like to have James there with him. He didn’t hate the thought—he had no reason to think James might make a fool of himself. He’d been gracious and respectful when he joined Solomon’s family at Passover, and more than happy to simply listen and follow along when he could. “No,” Solomon said at length. “No, it wouldn’t. I won’t say I’m not worried, but, well, you know what I worry about.”</p><p class="p1">“I do.” James got to his feet again, wincing and leaning heavily on his cane. “But I am well past the point of caring about what gossip about my personal life might do to my career. Anyway, ‘seen in a Jewish house of worship once or twice’ is not quite the same as being revealed as a half-English bastard of a horribly incompetent consul general. I can always play the ‘curious about the Jewish way of life card,’ and then put in some appearances at a local church until it dies down.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon sighed fondly. “I won’t stop you then, if you want to join me.” He crossed the room to wrap his arms around James’ waist so James could lean on him and take some of the weight off his bad leg. “I hate to leave you.”</p><p class="p1">“You’ll see me bright and early tomorrow,” James said, kissing Solomon lightly. “We’re meeting the realtor at seven.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon pulled back slightly and raised an eyebrow. “Not landlord?”</p><p class="p1">“I may have implied we were looking to buy the place outright, instead of renting,” James said, and he had the nerve not to look a bit ashamed about it.</p><p class="p1">“I’m not letting you buy me a shop,” Solomon said. He hated the anxiety twisting in chest. James should have known something like that would be entirely too much for Solomon, but then James shook his head Solomon would have sagged in relief if he hadn’t been half holding up James.</p><p class="p1">“I would not have made such a large decision without you,” James said, removing one of his hands from Solomon’s waist to take his hand instead. “But it’s a good, central location, you could easily get work from the dockyards on top of your regular commissions and any walk in sales, and I simply thought things might be easier if we didn’t have to worry about a landlord.”</p><p class="p1">“And you’ll let me pay my fair part?” Solomon had some money saved up—he’d have to do the math, but he could certainly contribute a fair portion.</p><p class="p1">“Of course,” James said. “It’s to be your shop after all.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">His shop. Those words were still rattling around Solomon’s head the following morning when they went to see the building, and upon seeing the place Solomon realized that he’d wanted this more than he’d perhaps let himself consider.</p><p class="p1">The place would need some work. This wasn’t going to be a case of setting up his workshop and opening the following day. The shop had clearly been empty for a spell and the front window was broken and boarded, but inside it was sound and solid. Nothing Solomon couldn’t repair with a bit of effort.</p><p class="p1">The upstairs living quarters were more recently used, but they’d have to replace what little furniture there was. It was sparse and rather old. Solomon knew he could make better given enough time.</p><p class="p1">“What do you think?” James asked, lowering himself carefully into one of the tired old chairs.</p><p class="p1">Solomon gave the main living room another once over. The fireplace looked a mess, but that would be easy enough to clean up and it would certainly keep the place warm in the winter; the door leading to the bedroom sat crooked in it’s frame, and he knew from his trip up to the attic rooms that the ceiling would be at risk of leaking if repairs weren’t made soon. “Needs work, but we can manage that I think. I want to make all new furniture once I’ve got all the pressing repairs out of the way.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, that would be lovely,” James said. “You like this place enough to already be considering that then?”</p><p class="p1">Solomon sighed. “I… I don’t rightly know what another place might improve upon.”</p><p class="p1">“We could find somewhere that would require less fixing,” James suggested, but there was no weight behind it. Solomon knew James wasn’t trying to talk him out of anything, just presenting possible options.</p><p class="p1">“I think I like this more almost, I mean, not the way it is now, but having to fix it up would allow me to make it even more my own,” Solomon said. “Our own.”</p><p class="p1">“Our own,” James repeated smiling. “Shall we go back downstairs and tell the gentlemen we’ll take it?”</p><p class="p1">“Can your knee handle going down the stairs again so soon?” Solomon asked. That was going to be something they would have to contend with once they’d moved. Solomon didn’t like the idea of James struggling on the stairs, but James didn’t seem worried about that as an issue of their living here, and Solomon would let James take the lead there as the one with the leg injury.</p><p class="p1">James levered himself to his feet. “They aren’t too steep, I think I’ll be all right. The railing helps, though it is a bit loose.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon nodded and offered James his arm. “I’ll fix that first, then.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Sitting in the synagogue on Queen St that evening was comforting in a way that Solomon couldn’t quite put into words. His Hebrew was not good enough to catch everything, but he knew many of the prayers by rote and the rest he was content to sit back and let them wash over him. James seemed to be taking a similar approach. There was a minimal amount he could mumble through in Hebrew after having listened to Solomon prayer for nearly half a year now, and he always paid close attention to any part of the service that was in English.</p><p class="p1">Solomon had never been one for extended biblical discussion with anyone other than his immediate family—with anyone in the Marines or the Navy it had been a matter of keeping his head down and feigning care,but with James it was interesting and engaging. As the service went on, discussing the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai and then on to the Book of Ruth, where the sermon focused on compassion towards converts and the welcoming of a young man who had converted after finding comfort in Judaism following the death of his wife and infant daughter, Solomon found himself genuinely looking forward to discussing everything with James afterward.</p><p class="p1">However, when the time came for them to leave, several hours later, James was surprisingly silent. During Passover, James had chatted happily with Solomon on the walk back to his families house and upon arrival had been dragged into a vicious debate with Solomon’s grandmother—which James later told him he had enjoyed immensely even if it had made him feel like an unruly school boy all over again.</p><p class="p1">“Is everything all right?” Solomon asked, when he could no longer take the silence.</p><p class="p1">James started minutely. “Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I’m afraid today has taken a rather lot out of me. After the length of that service, I’m rather tired.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry,” Solomon said. “I should have warned you. Services can run extra long on Shavuot. It’s traditional to stay up all night studying, I remember my father doing it when I was a child. I do feel like that would be a bit much for us tonight though.”</p><p class="p1">James chuckled. “Yes, certainly. It’ll be another early day tomorrow, but the sooner we can get all the papers in order the sooner we can move forward repairs.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon was quiet for a moment before he replied. “Might I stay at home while you go in. I’d… the work involved…” He sighed and trailed off.</p><p class="p1">“It’s not a day you can work?” James asked.</p><p class="p1">“No. I- I can go with you if you need me…” But he would really rather not.</p><p class="p1">James shook his head. “I don’t think that will be necessary. It will mostly be sorting out the financial details, a payment schedule, things like that. I can handle the first payment. We’ll sort things out after the holiday.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Solomon attended services at the synagogue alone the following day, while James sorted out the finer details of purchasing the shop. He missed James’ presence, and he found that he was antsy throughout the entire service. There hadn’t been a real need for James’ to sort out all of the details today, they would be here until mid-next week, which would have given them plenty of time after Shavuot to accomplish that.</p><p class="p1">Of course Solomon never expected James to entirely reorder his life to fit against his, but James had made considerable effort to do so in the past and, moreover, Solomon had grown <em>used</em> to it. He didn’t stay for the Torah study afterward, even though he wanted to—he knew that he would have spent the entire time wondering what James’ thoughts would be.</p><p class="p1">Solomon took a meandering path back to their rented rooms, walking down along the dockyard. He had wondered what memories living in Portsmouth might bring back, if it would inspire a sense of peace and familiarity or one of guilt and dread. It was certainly the later when a group of young marines tumbled past—in their faces Solomon could only see the men he hadn’t been able to bring home.</p><p class="p1">“Sergeant Tozer, sir?”</p><p class="p1">Solomon turned sharply at the voice, and it was a beat before he recognized the sailor in front of him. He let out a sigh of relief.“Not a sergeant anymore, Mr. Hartnell.” A strong believer in second chances, Tom Hartnell had been one of the few who had forgiven Solomon wholly. The others had tolerated him because the captains had granted him clemency for coming forward, but most had still steered clear of him afterward.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t think you lose your rank just cause you retire,” Hartnell said with a shrug.</p><p class="p1">Solomon laughed. “I suppose not. You got a ship?”</p><p class="p1">Hartnell shook his head. “Well, I <em>did</em>. Just got paid off.”</p><p class="p1">“No rest for the working man,” Solomon muttered. “You headed right back out or are you headed to see family?”</p><p class="p1">“Family, promised my mum I’d visit between voyages, she worries.” Hartnell shoved in hands in his pockets. “You seem to be doing all right.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon nodded, swallowing thickly around the guilt welling up in throat. He knew for Hartnell to be just returning meant that he had to have sailed not long after their return, likely not long enough to have been terribly well recovered. “I got lucky,” Solomon said. “If you’ve got a mo’ I’ll tell you about it. We can get something to eat.”</p><p class="p1">Hartnell rather looked like he wanted to, but he shook his head again. “Can’t, gotta save my money, there’s…” He sighed. “Debts need paying.”</p><p class="p1">“My treat then,” Solomon said. “As I said, I got lucky. I’ve had more than my fair share of good fortune, let me buy you dinner.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It was late by the time Solomon got back to his and James’ rooms, but getting to see Hartnell had buoyed Solomon’s spirits and he was glad to have had the opportunity to catch up. He’d given Hartnell the address of the new shop, though he’d instructed him not to write for at least a month to avoid a letter being delivered to an empty storefront.</p><p class="p1">“There you are!” James said, getting to his feet as Solomon walked into the room. “I was beginning to get worried.”</p><p class="p1">“Ran into Tom Hartnell on my way back from the synagogue, bought him dinner.” Solomon shrugged off his coat with a wince. “Everything taken care of?”</p><p class="p1">“For now, yes,” James said. “Your signature is required on a few documents, but I have the keys and we can move in at our leisure. How is Mr. Hartnell?” </p><p class="p1">“As well as he can be.” James eased himself back into his seat at the small table and Solomon joined him. “Working, apparently his family’s struggling with debt, told him to write if he needed anything.”</p><p class="p1">James nodded. “Good, if there’s anyway I can help I want to.”</p><p class="p1">“Told him you’d say that,” Solomon said. “Regardless, I’m glad he’s okay. How are you faring? Your leg doing okay with all the walking?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s going to be stiff and sore tomorrow, but its not feeling weak the way it sometimes gets.” James rubbed his knee, then he sighed. “I wanted to apologize for last night.”</p><p class="p1">“Last night…” So something <em>had </em>been off.</p><p class="p1">“I’d never heard that story, Ruth and Naomi.” James let out a long breath. “I didn’t expect to be quite so affected by it.”</p><p class="p1">“Never? I thought your uncle was a pastor?”</p><p class="p1">“Reverend, but…” James shook his head. “No, it was never part of any sermon and it was never in anything I read either.”</p><p class="p1">“Huh.” Solomon leaned back in his chair—now that he think about it, he couldn’t recall hearing it in any Christian church either.</p><p class="p1">“Anyway, it… it got me thinking about what my relationship to Jewish things has been like through you,” James continued. “Last night, I had no idea how to put those thoughts into words.”</p><p class="p1">The traitorous part of Solomon’s mind that still felt what he had with James was too good to be true took this moment to suggests that perhaps James no longer wanted to deal with Solomon being Jewish.</p><p class="p1">“And now?” He asked.</p><p class="p1">James toyed with the edge of his waistcoat for a moment before responding, “I went back to the synagogue, once I wrapped up things with the realtor. I- I spoke to the rabbi.” He paused another moment. “I asked about converting.”</p><p class="p1">Whatever Solomon had been thinking James might say, that had been nowhere near it.</p><p class="p1">“About converting… in general?” he asked, any other alternative was far too much for Solomon to comprehend, but then James shook his head.</p><p class="p1">“For me.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon had no idea how to respond to that, but thankfully he didn’t need to because James kept going.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent with you, with your family, learning about Judaism, about a whole new way of interacting with the Bible I grew up with,” James ran a hand through his hair. “It’s more comfortable than any other religious experience I’ve had.”</p><p class="p1">“What did the rabbi say?” Solomon asked, finally finding his voice.</p><p class="p1">James chuckled. “He made the same points about my career and reputation you did, apparently my presence at the service last night did not go unnoticed.” He paused a moment, shifting in his seat in a way that made Solomon think he might be in more pain than he’d let on. “The rabbi said I should think on it more, make sure I know what I’m getting myself into before I make any decisions, which seemed like quite reasonable advice given the amount of things I don’t know. So, I- I think I’d rather like to continue as we were, learning as I can with you. Is… “Could I accompany you to services again tomorrow? Shavuot does end tomorrow, correct?”</p><p class="p1">Solomon nodded, smiling gently. “Yeah, tomorrow.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><b>Rosh Hashanah ~ September 1851/Elul 5611-Tishrei 5612 </b> <b></b></p><p class="p1">Rosh Hashanah was the beginning of the High Holy Days, which was itself preceded by a month of reflection and introspection. Reflecting on the past year and thinking on what you had done wrong and could improve was a way to better oneself for the coming year, that had been what Mrs. Tozer had explained when James had written to ask her advice concerning the holiday, but when coupled with the guilt and burdens James carried, it was no easy task.</p><p class="p1">On the surface, journaling as an exercise in reflection seemed an easy thing to do, but in practice? He understood now why Solomon had only given him a very bare bones explanation before disappearing into his workshop and not coming back up to bed until well after midnight.</p><p class="p1">So now James sat, his pen poised over his inkwell, trying, and failing, to put his thoughts to paper. How does one repent for the deaths of so many? The Admiralty counted him blameless, but James couldn’t bring himself to agree with that assessment.</p><p class="p1">James had, for the most part, reconciled himself to the fact that he had done everything he possibly could have to help his men given the circumstances, however, that did stop the thoughts that asked “What if there was something more?” What if he had done things differently sooner? Backed Crozier instead of stay silent? Would it have kept them from being iced in? Would it have saved the men at Carnivale?</p><p class="p1">He had spent the last year working on his memoir—it would be in the shops by winter—crafting a palatable account of the expedition for the Admiralty and public. But his failings, which were not so well accounted for, still needed to be put down. Blanky’s words about there needing to be a new kind of memoir for truth to be found therein had been ringing in his ears for months now.</p><p class="p1">In the end, he found himself unable to do any sort of journalling, instead penning a number of letters: to Crozier, Hartnell, Des Voeux, Le Vesconte, Little, Hodgson, and all of the other survivors he had addresses for. Some of them were more openly about the guilt they all carried as survivors than others; like Crozier’s, since James knew there was a chance the older man was feeling similarly guilt-ridden on the tails of his own memoir, a short slim volume, coming out a few months prior. For others, like Bridgens and Peglar, it was more general inquiries about their health, if life was treating them well. The last thing James wanted was to have saved their men from the Arctic only for them to succumb to struggles back home.</p><p class="p1">In James’ experience—and in Goodsir’s as well apparently—such struggles were best managed with the help of a friend. It was certainly easier to feel like all their sacrifices had been worth something when he got to wake every morning to see Solomon alive and well beside him.</p><p class="p1">Solomon, James knew, struggled more than he did. Siding with the Hickey and the mutineers, even for a time, haunted Solomon, and there was only so much guilt James could help him alleviate. If James was struggling facing his own faults, he couldn’t imagine what Solomon was feeling. James tried to remember if this time the previous year had been particularly hard for Solomon, but that first year back had been so difficult anyway James couldn’t quite say.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Are we having a party I didn’t know about?” Solomon asked as James set down his pile of letters on the shop counter where Solomon was sitting a whittling a little dog figure.</p><p class="p1">James chuckled. “No, I just… I found it easier to inquire after others than it was to commit my own failings to paper.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re a braver man than me for even attempting it,” Solomon said with a shake of his head. “I’m nearly done with the bed frame,” he added.</p><p class="p1">And there ended the conversation, but James kept pace. “Oh, perfect. It’ll be good to finally get rid of the old one.” It was horribly unstable even with the scrap of wood they’d shoved under one of the legs. (Every time they had sex James worried it was going to break underneath them.)</p><p class="p1">Solomon nodded. He was about to say something else, but then stopped himself. A moment later the bell above the door chimed and James turned in time to see an older woman sweep into the store with a young girl in tow. He swiftly turned back to scoop up his letters. “I can sign and seal anything you need sent,” he murmured quietly.</p><p class="p1">“No need,” Solomon said, passing over two already-addressed letters.</p><p class="p1">James took them and, with a nod and a “ma’am” to the woman, he exited the shop.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">James went out of his way to swing by the kosher butcher on his way home. A good meal was hardly a solution to a dark mood, but it certainly didn’t hurt. The stove in their house worked surprisingly well for how old it was, any cooking trouble they had tended to come from lack of skill, though in James own opinion they had both made quite a bit of progress in the months they’d been living in their little flat. They <em>could</em> hire someone to cook, James could certainly afford it, but there was something terribly nice about not having to dance about any staff. There had been some discussion about having someone in to clean every once in a while, but they had made no concrete plans for it yet.</p><p class="p1">Solomon was not in the front of the store when James returned. “It’s just me,” he called, to let Solomon know that he didn’t need to come out of his workshop, although he did anyway.</p><p class="p1">“You were out a while,” Solomon said. “Thought you’d come straight back on account of your leg. Or were you just using that as an excuse to lounge around in bed this morning?” he teased.</p><p class="p1">James rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t, but I wanted to swing by the butcher, leg be damned.” When Solomon leveled him with a glare James added, “If I’d been in too much pain, I would have come straight home.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon huffed. “Fine. I just worry, you know.”</p><p class="p1">“I do.” James desperately wanted to kiss Solomon, which he could have done if they were back in Solomon’s workshop, but the large front windows of the shop made that an impossibility here. “May I see what you’re working on?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes,” Solomon replied, grinning. “You can come and sit down on one of the chairs I’m making, tell me if you think they’re comfortable enough.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The night before Erev Rosh Hashanah Solomon approached James while James was trying not to compose a response to a letter from his publisher. The interruption was somewhat of a relief until James noted just how worried Solomon looked. “What’s wrong?” he asked.</p><p class="p1">Solomon shook his head. “It’s… nothing like what you’re probably thinking. I’ve just been…”</p><p class="p1">“Distant? Upset? I know you’ve been struggling with the coming holiday,” James said gently, reaching out for Solomon. It was relieving when Solomon responded in kind and took James’ hand.</p><p class="p1">“I’d hoped I wasn’t being so obvious,” Solomon muttered.</p><p class="p1">James squeezed Solomon’s hand. “You’d run off to hide in your workshop just about every time it came up. It was hard to come to any other conclusion. Is this about services in the coming days?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes,” Solomon breathed out, and then he took another breath, steeling himself. “I’d like to attend alone. I don’t mean to… that’s not to discourage you…”</p><p class="p1">“Solomon,” James interrupted. “It’s all right.” He would be liking if he said he didn’t feel a tiny bit hurt, but James knew this wasn’t a rejection, and he also had a feeling he knew why Solomon was requesting it.</p><p class="p1">“If going alone is what you need, then I will gladly stay home,” James continued. “These are your holidays, I am still only a guest. In truth, I had been wondering if it would even be appropriate for me to attend at all. I’ve not quite settled the matter of conversion with the rabbi yet; when I went to speak to him again he said to come back <em>after</em> the High Holy Days.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon nodded, seeming almost stunned with relief. “Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">James smiled gently. “Of course, Sol. Would you like me to keep your shop open for the week too?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>Yom Kippur ~ October 1851/Tishrei 5612</b>
</p><p class="p1">The letter arrived while James was out, and normally, Solomon would wait for James to get home before opening a letter from a former <em>Terror </em>or <em>Erebus</em> crew mate, but something about this letter seemed off to Solomon. For one, the sender was noted as Tommy Armitage’s mother, not the man himself. He poured himself a glass of gin for the extra courage before sitting down at their dining table to open it.</p><p class="p1">Solomon had not even finished the first paragraph before hot tears were rolling down his face. He threw back the remainder of his first glass of gin and poured himself another. Armitage had finally found himself recovered enough to get a posting as a steward aboard a ship, but not a month out from port he’d been knocked overboard during a storm and drowned.</p><p class="p1"><em>Drowned</em>. Armitage had survived all the horrors the Arctic had thrown at him—the ice, the creature, the poisoned food, the scurvy—just to drown on his first posting after returning home to the safety of England. A sob hiccuped out of him, and he wiped at his eyes to have a go at reading the rest of the letter.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Solomon wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard the door shut firmly, signaling that James was home. When he went to take a swig of gin, he realized that his glass was empty, but he found he didn’t really have it in him to pour another. He didn’t have the chance to either, because the next thing he knew James had removed the bottle and taken the, now rather crumple and tearstained, letter from his hand.</p><p class="p1">“Oh no,” James murmured. “Sol…”</p><p class="p1">Solomon choked on another sob, and looked up in time to see James carefully tuck the letter into his waistcoat pocket. He swallowed, watching vaguely as James pulled the other chair around to sit next to him. Before he really knew what was happening, James was coaxing Solomon into an embrace and Solomon all but collapsed into him as James’ arms came to wrap around him, his tears coming back in a flood.</p><p class="p1">It was several long minutes before Solomon’s sobs subsided enough for him to speak. “I know this isn’t my fault,” he croaked, “but I still feel so fucking guilty. I got him home for what? Just to die the next time he set foot on a ship?”</p><p class="p1">“There was no way of knowing something like this would happen,” James said softly, though his voice was tight and betrayed tears of his own.</p><p class="p1">“I <em>know</em>,” Solomon said, lip wobbling again. “But it’s hard not to feel responsible, especially for him. I nearly got him hung.” Armitage had looked up to Solomon, and that faith had been what led Armitage to join him in following Hickey.</p><p class="p1">James rubbed Solomon’s back, and Solomon found himself relaxing into the touch. “I wish I had better words to comfort you,” James said, “other than reminding you that you did the best you could with the knowledge you had, and that even if you fell astray you did what was right in the end.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon felt queasy with guilt. “I ignored Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur entirely last year,” he said, instead of trying to respond directly to James. “I couldn’t fathom asking for forgiveness, not for what I’m guilty of. I thought this, with more distance… I could try… I don’t know, <em>something.</em>” He sobbed again. “Nothing I do will be ever be enough.” </p><p class="p1">James shifted his arms around Solomon and brought a hand up to comb through Solomon’s hair. “I don’t think you have to be entirely free of guilt to be forgiven. I know I made my share of mistakes and I’ve been forgiven for them, even if I haven’t quite forgiven myself.”</p><p class="p1">“Not by everyone,” Solomon muttered.</p><p class="p1">“No,” James admitted, “but that is the cost of our mistakes. All we can do now is move forward and do what we can to make amends.”</p><p class="p1">A few beats of silence passed between them, and then Solomon pushed himself up from James chest, wiping at his eyes rather roughly with his sleeve. “You make it sound so easy.”</p><p class="p1">“I think just about everything sounds easier said than done,” James said, catching Solomon’s other hand.</p><p class="p1">Solomon’s gaze dropped to their hands. “What do I do now?”</p><p class="p1">James brought Solomon’s hand to his lips for a moment, which forced Solomon to look up at him again. He gave Solomon’s hand a squeeze.“Now you are going to get into bed so you can sleep off the gin, and tomorrow you can write your condolences to Mrs. Armitage and let her know that she can come to you should she need anything.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon shuddered, still feeling like he might be sick, but he relented, letting James steer him to his feet and toward their bedroom.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Yom Kippur was two days later and Solomon wasn’t sure he was ready for it. He’d spent the past two days since receiving that letter leaning heavily on James, and even though they’d already had the conversation about Solomon attending the High Holy Day services alone, Solomon found himself desperately wanting to try convincing James to join him.</p><p class="p1">Solomon mentioned this to James offhand as they finished an early dinner prior to the start of his fast. Well, he tried to make it sound offhand and casual, but judging by James’ face that hadn’t quite been the effect.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry,” James murmured, taking Solomon’s hand. “For what it’s worth, I will wait up for you.”</p><p class="p1">“I know you will.” Solomon smiled lightly.</p><p class="p1">James worried his lip a moment before speaking again. “Will you really be okay fasting for a full day? I- Not that I doubt what you can handle, it’s just…” He sighed. “I don’t like the idea of you going hungry.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon could understand that. He wasn’t sure he liked it either, or would be able to manage it either. “I need to try,” he said. “If I have to break my fast I will, but I need… I need to try.”</p><p class="p1">James still didn’t look happy, but he nodded. After another moment, he made to pull his hand back and get up, but Solomon held firm to James, stopping him. “I’ll be all right, James. I promise.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He almost wasn’t. During a break in the service he found himself getting incredibly light headed, and he ducked outside to sit on the synagogue steps in the hopes that fresh air might clear his head. It didn’t, however, he was joined not two moments later by an elderly woman who offered him half of an apple.</p><p class="p1">Solomon tried to refuse, but the woman wouldn’t take no for an answer. “It won’t do you any good to pass out during services. God will forgive if you need to have a bite to keep up your strength.”</p><p class="p1">“I know,” Solomon muttered, finally relenting to take the proffered apple half. “I wasn’t expecting it to hit me so hard. I… well, before I retired from the Marines I…”</p><p class="p1">Without quite meaning too, Solomon told the woman a much abbreviated story of his time in the Arctic, with emphasis on the food and lack of. He kept expecting her to say something about having seen the papers, but she didn’t. She simply nodded, and when he’d finished she patted his knee and got to her feet.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” Solomon said, once he’d gotten to his feet as well. “For the apple, and… and for listening.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Solomon could smell the food from the stairway when he arrived home later that evening. He didn’t think food had ever smelled quite so good. Both he and James had found their relationship to food troubled since their return, which had perhaps been among the reasons Solomon had tried to force himself through the fast, so smelling food—particularly cooked meat—and feeling comfortably hungry instead of nauseous and repulsed was an improvement.</p><p class="p1">James was quick to greet Solomon as he walked through the door. “How are you feeling?”</p><p class="p1">“All right, I’m all right,” Solomon assured him. “Shaky, but more from the service than the lack of food, though an old lady did give me something to eat partway through.” He’d gone to speak to her and her husband before he’d left and learned that she apparently suffered fainting spells if she didn’t eat consistently throughout the day, which made her gift to Solomon all the more generous.</p><p class="p1">James pressed a gentle kiss to Solomon’s cheek. “I made dinner. Your mum sent me some recipes a while back so I thought I’d try a few.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” Solomon murmured, leaning into James who promptly drew Solomon into an embrace. He sighed, tucking his face in the crook of James’ neck, some of the distress and guilt starting to bleed out of him.</p><p class="p1">“I took your advice,” Solomon said, after another moment.</p><p class="p1">James hummed as he rubbed gentle circles on the back of Solomon’s bad shoulder. “What advice was that?”</p><p class="p1">“Not arguing with others forgiving me just because I can’t forgive myself.” He sniffled a bit, his eyes starting to water. “I made my case and, I figure, if God decides to forgive me, that’s on him.”</p><p class="p1">James chuckled. “Suppose it is.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Solomon’s head. “Come on, let’s get you fed.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><b>Hanukkah ~ December 1851/Kislev-Tevet 5612</b> <b></b></p><p class="p1">Solomon and James had not done much at home to celebrate Sukkot. When Solomon had explained the tradition of building a sukkah outdoors and eating in it, James had lamented that they could have done that in their garden before they’d moved and Solomon had jokingly suggested they try to build one on the roof. But they had gone to services and made attempts at fancy festive meals at home, which James had thought they’d been rather successful at, they’d only made one thing that had been truly unsalvageable.</p><p class="p1">The week following Sukkot, James had gone back to talk to the rabbi for a third time, and it had been then that conversation about conversion had begun in earnest and James had been given a number of steps he should begin taking—it had frankly been a relief to see just how many of them James had sort of already been doing alongside Solomon.</p><p class="p1">Committing more formally to living a Jewish life was a bit jarring at first, but it didn’t end up changing much. The biggest difference to start with was that Solomon had to stop asking James to do things for him that were forbidden on the Sabbath, and James found Solomon’s mild grousing about it terribly endearing.</p><p class="p1">The next change, which was arguably a larger one, didn’t rear its head until a month or so later when James received a letter from William asking if James (and Solomon) would like to join them for Christmas in Brighton.</p><p class="p1">“Hanukkah is later this year, isn’t it?” James asked, passing the letter over to Solomon as they ate breakfast.</p><p class="p1">Solomon nodded. “It actually overlaps with Christmas this year. If you want to go see your brother, I won’t stop you.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll visit him for a few days over the new year,” James said, shaking his head. “He’ll understand. It’s not like he wants the family all together for mass or something like that.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh right, I always forget that your brother just… doesn’t believe in anything,” Solomon shook his head. “How he get there anyway? I mean, I’d hardly call my thoughts on God consistent, but… how do you give it up entirely?”</p><p class="p1">“Not sure I know,” James said. “I mean we’ve seen how I’ve been dealing with being disillusioned with the church.” </p><p class="p1">Solomon laughed. “Fair enough. Have you told him?”</p><p class="p1">James shook his head. “It seems a conversation best had in person.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">As the sun set on the first night of Hanukkah James found himself positively thrumming with quiet excitement. Though it was excitement he couldn’t do anything with until he arrived back their flat some hours later after a day that had been mostly spent arguing with old men who had not set foot on a ship in decades for anything other than show in decades.</p><p class="p1">It was a relief then, to find dinner already set out on the table as he walked into their flat; latkes, some fish dish with lemon, a loaf of challah, and a small pile of jelly doughnuts.</p><p class="p1">“Did you make all this?” James called into the flat, not entirely sure where Solomon was, but knowing he couldn’t be far.</p><p class="p1">There was some shuffling from their bedroom and then Solomon stuck his head out of the door. “Don’t be ridiculous, I only made the latkes and the fish, I can’t bake for shit. ”</p><p class="p1">“Whats the fish?” James asked. It smelled good whatever it was.</p><p class="p1">Solomon sighed and slipped out of their room. “Cod, cooked with some of those preserved lemons your brother sent. Why does your brother send so much food?”</p><p class="p1">“I think he worries about me eating well,” James admitted, peeling off his outer layers. “He was very worried when I said we weren’t hiring anyone to cook, but I think we’ve managed all right. This all looks very good.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon chuckled dryly. “Don’t say that before you’ve tasted anything.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">After dinner Solomon brought out the menorah that James had bought him the year prior. He set it up on top of the fireplace and fitted it with candles. They lived outside of the more predominantly Jewish part of the city, and Solomon hadn’t felt quite comfortable putting the menorah up in the street facing window.</p><p class="p1">James watched him fondly from where he was sprawled out on the couch, resting his leg.</p><p class="p1">“Wait here a moment,” Solomon said, setting the box of additional candles down on a side table.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve got no other plans,” James teased lightly, and Solomon rolled his eyes.</p><p class="p1">Solomon then disappeared into their bedroom for a brief moment, before emerging with a wooden box.</p><p class="p1">James sat up somewhat. “What’s this? If you got me something after you explicitly told me not to get you anything…”</p><p class="p1">“It’s not like that,” Solomon said, grinning. “I only said that because you don’t really exchange gifts on Hanukkah like you do on Christmas, but this is… well it’s different.” He held out the box. “Just trust me and open it.”</p><p class="p1">Taking the box, James settled back into the couch and rested it on his lap to open it. The lid wasn’t secured so James could lift it easy, but he made a show of inching it up while watching Solomon squirm out of the corner of his eye.</p><p class="p1">“Just open it,” Solomon muttered under his breath and James laughed and finally set aside the lid.</p><p class="p1">James turned his attention to what was in the box and his breath caught in his throat. Inside was a wooden menorah, intricately carved and designed to look like the body of ship, with the candle holders set into the deck, save for the spot for the shamash which was raised where the main mast would be.</p><p class="p1">“Do you like it?” Solomon asked softly.</p><p class="p1">“I do.” James lifted it out of the box almost reverently. “It’s lovely, Sol.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon let out a long sigh of relief and James looked over to him. He set the menorah back down in the box carefully and reached out to Solomon. “Come here.”</p><p class="p1">“I was worried what you’d think,” Solomon said, taking James’ hand and letting himself be pulled in until he was forced to sit on the edge of the couch. “I’d… I’d had <em>Terror </em>and <em>Erebus</em> in mind when I designed it, though, being from memory it’s hardly a perfect representation.”</p><p class="p1">James shifted the menorah to get a better look at it again. “I can see the resemblance now… though it’s hard to imagine her entirely bare of masts. I imagine she’ll look rather more fit with candles.” He drew Solomon in to kiss him gently. “Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">Solomon tilted their heads together once the kiss broke. “Happy Hanukkah.”</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was supposed to be 4k tops and mostly Hanukkah focused, and then it turned into a much larger thing. Big thank you to @teapig for letting me yell about this at them and also for beta'ing this in the wee hours of 2021 so I could post this in 2020.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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